Chapter 3

Elara'S POV

Soft candlelight flickered across the table, gilding Garrick’s face in warm gold. His boyish features tanned skin, soft blond hair parted just enough to look effortless seemed especially striking tonight. He’d gone above and beyond for what we both continually insisted wasn’t a date.

Technically, it was our weekly routine. A hookup with ambiance. A standing appointment with good food, expensive wine, and sex after. Six months I’d been hiding out in Olympia, and six months without a whisper from my stalker or the hunters who sometimes shadowed him. I kept my head down, worked at the tiny downtown bookstore, and tried not to make waves.

Garrick started coming in every few days, then every day, pretending he needed a recommendation or some obscure book. After weeks of declining his offers because relationships were a luxury I couldn’t afford he’d finally worn me down enough to agree to dinner. I still didn’t call it dating. It was… an upgraded booty call. An ongoing one.

It worked for both of us. He was a rising politician with no time for commitment, and I was a witch living out of suitcases and contingency plans. I could vanish tomorrow and never look back. For now, though, I let myself have this. Him. One night a week that didn’t feel like survival.

The restaurant was new, romantic, candlelit, absurdly expensive. Something I would never splurge on myself. Our booth sat in a shadowed alcove near the back, almost entirely hidden from the other patrons. Good. Darkness made me feel less exposed, like fewer eyes could settle on me long enough to recognize me, or worse, follow me home.

Soft Italian music floated through the air, melodic and soothing. I let myself breathe it in. Let myself pretend this night was normal.

My phone vibrated with my scheduled alarm, and without thinking, I reached into my purse. The pill bottle rattled softly as I shook one into my palm and swallowed it with a sip of water.

Garrick watched me with curiosity creasing his brow. “What’s the pill for?”

I stiffened. “Just a medicine I take. I have a rare magical condition.” My eyes dropped to the tablecloth. “It started when I was thirteen, not long after my father died. The trauma… messed something up.”

His expression softened instantly. “I’m sorry. What kind of condition? Maybe I can help you find someone who specializes in it.”

My head snapped up. “You’d do that?” A mistake I let too much hope show. I cleared my throat. “It’s an energy issue. My magic reserves don’t stay stable on their own. Without the medication, everything would drain too fast. Theoretically, I wouldn’t be able to cast even basic spells.”

“How awful.” He leaned forward, concerned. “But you said theoretically. You’ve never tested it?”

“No.” I hadn’t dared. A witch with no magic was prey waiting to be hunted, and I already had enough people looking for me.

Garrick’s bright blue eyes softened even more, but something else flickered behind them warmth, maybe desire. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his voice low and rich.

Heat crept up my neck. “You don’t have to compliment me.” I waved a hand dismissively. “You don’t have to take me anywhere fancy, either. You know that.”

But secretly, these evenings meant more to me than I ever admitted out loud. The food was amazing, the wine deKaelennt, but it was more than that. For a few hours each week, I felt like I wasn’t completely alone. Like I wasn’t just a fugitive with no future and a teenage brother hidden away at the aKaelenmy.

For these few hours, I pretended I was normal.

Garrick’s expression shifted an odd blend of impatience and worry. “Elara, it isn’t about what I have to do. I like taking you out. I want you to feel valued.” He sat straighter. “In fact, I’ve decided something. Starting tonight, I’m going to treat you the way you deserve to be treated.”

I blinked. “What? You’re already doing plenty.”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box of gold and black.

My breath caught. My pulse spiked sharply, a rush of cold fear sliding down my spine. That color combination…

No. Not the same pattern. Not the same box. Coincidence. Just coincidence.

“I know this might seem sudden,” Garrick said, opening the lid with a soft click, “but it feels right.”

A glittering diamond nestled inside, brilliant and blinding.

My stomach dropped.

“Will you marry me?”

Time slowed. The dining room faded to a blur of shadows and murmured conversation. All I could see was the ring. Then him.

“Excuse me?” My voice cracked embarrassingly loud.

“Marry me, Elara.” He set the box between us. “We’re both twenty-nine. It’s time to settle down. I’ll be mayor soon, and a mayor needs a wife. You need stability. A husband who can take care of you.”

I stared at him, stunned silent. My thoughts spun like leaves caught in a storm. I had lived in chaos for so long that the idea of settling anywhere let alone marrying anyone was unthinkable. Orion had only just begun his mandatory supernatural education three months ago. He was safe for now. I was safe for now. But “now” was temporary. I knew better than to believe in permanence.

I’d had my trust used against me too many times to hand this man my life story or my future.

Finally, somehow, I found words. “No. I can’t.”

Garrick’s face hardened. “No?”

“No,” I repeated. “We barely know each other, and ”

“You should reconsider.” His eyes sharpened to something cold. “You’re poor, Elara. You hide it well, but you’re struggling. I could give you comfort, security, everything you want. But I won’t do any of that unless you agree to be mine. Fully mine.”

I choked on offended disbelief. “That’s a hard no.”

He ignored the refusal. “You have no friends. You work constantly. You live in that rundown farmhouse alone. You could have so much more if you’d let me help you.” His voice dropped. “If you stay on your own, you’ll end up nothing more than an easy, forgettable lie.”

The hit landed like a slap. The bastard.

“I’m leaving,” I snapped and started to stand.

His wand appeared in his hand a sleek onyx shaft glimmering ominously.

“Sit. Down.”

Compulsion magic surged, and my body obeyed before my mind caught up. I dropped back into the booth, heart hammering. I scanned the restaurant nobody had noticed. The dim lighting and quiet music shielded us from curious eyes.

Good. Bad. I wasn’t sure.

From my purse, I carefully drew my own wand citrine, warm, protective. Hidden beneath the table, I tightened my grip. If he wanted to threaten me, he’d picked the wrong witch.

Garrick tilted his head, casual as could be. “This is the last time I’ll ask.” His wand pointed at my chest. “Marry me, or face the consequences.”

My temper snapped. I whispered a paralysis spell and flicked my wand upward. The magic burst toward him.

He blocked it effortlessly.

A flash of orange stung my hand, and I cried out as my wand fell. A few people glanced over, but Garrick waved them away like nothing unusual had happened.

Then he summoned my wand across the table with a lazy curl of his fingers.

“No!” I lunged forward, keeping my voice barely above a whisper. “You can’t take that. Give it back.”

He twirled it smugly between his fingers. “I’ll return it when you accept my offer.”

“You don’t understand I need that.” Panic sharpened my voice. If the hunters found me now, without my wand, I was done for.

“I told you what I want.” His gaze dipped to my cleavage before sliding back to my face. “And I always get what I want.”

Of course. Of course this was happening to me. My taste in men was apparently abysmal.

He had backed me into a corner, and he knew it.

I swallowed the burning humiliation and said, “Fine. I’ll marry you. Now give me my wand.”

He smiled like a cat with a trapped mouse. “Perfect.” He lifted the ring. “Put this on.”

I held out my hand. “After you return my wand.”

“Ring first,” he insisted. “To seal it.”

I grabbed the diamond, intending to slip it on quickly and rip it right back off once I had my wand.

But the moment it touched my palm, a ripple of magic shivered through my hand.

I froze.

“There’s a spell on this ring.”